


Ain't it fun

by TheWhiteOne



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M, Other, Short Story, Slight OOCness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:22:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1496509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWhiteOne/pseuds/TheWhiteOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's all or nothing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't it fun

**Author's Note:**

> Permission to punch me in the face

Ain’t it fun?

No, I can’t let be like this. I sit in my current apartment I pluck a white hair off my couch, from weeks ago, he hasn’t been with me for weeks and weeks. All the things you confided in me, my heart in acid, for what? Does it even matter, Nate? I don’t think it does, it breaks me in two. If there was ever time when you made me even less than a breath of air, I can’t remember, I can’t remember ever feeling worse. I’m convinced my heart is slug in the jar of acid that is your love, that you shake when you’re bored. Did you ever really want me to love you? Did you ever mean the ‘I love yous’?   
It doesn’t matter.  
I stand; I’m not far from you so I’ll walk to your home, the home that was ‘ours’. I shared this with you; I see a car parked outside. In the dead of night, you know I visit, so to think I wouldn’t notice your little date. Laughable, because you’re number one right?  
I inhale and recall your words, the most romantic I’ve ever been told.  
Mello, you’re the only one I consider completely equal to me, you are the only one I have really ever loved. It’s the only solid foundation I can give you, the fact I’m a constant.   
I laugh out loud, who I was kidding the things Beyond Birthday always told me were true, “People like us don’t get to have love, there’s always someone better.” I thought he had been wrong, I had the cliché “Near’s different” and when he laughed, he knew it. I laugh again, the maniacal laugh , I laugh because I know when your death is, dear Mello, not your physical one, I know that of everyone, but the death of your soul.   
The shade of my ex-bedroom is cracked, just enough for me to see. I see it, the pale legs throw apart, the guy is a blur in my vision. You were never like this, I must’ve changed you for the worst, desirable for me. Not really anyone else’s to have.  
I’m perfectly aware I’ve lost my mind.  
I cock my perfect little back gun, a present from the now dead Mail Jeevas. You’d approve of this use, my only friend. I grab my rosary kiss it as I silently enter the house, forgive me god, but I know this is the only way I can end this misery of mine. Because I know it will never not hurt, Near. NEVER.   
I straighten myself out, he didn’t cheat on me, but for all our ending was worth it might cushioned that blow. I remember it one last time to remind myself why I will eat lead inside of you tonight. Oh wouldn’t it be nice to have sex with you one last time? To take that composure and ruin it, by making you moan and cry my name. But no, those nights are long over and long forgotten by you.   
I snap back into my blurred reality but your muffled moans, I creep across the dead silent house and creak open the door. I don’t even look at his form, I don’t look at the creep on top of you, I just fucking unload into his skull and watch him thump to floor, dead instantly. Those two grey orbs of yours stare at me, oh your eyes were always so pretty. You were always so pretty, I look at you one last time, the albinism looks good on your sharp features. White hair, grey eyes, pale skin, you’re right out of the fairy tales, in terms of beauty.   
You, Near, cry right out for me but I don’t here it, I look down the barrel. I’m not going to kill you, I’m going to make you suffer. I’m going to put the gun right in the hair of mine you claimed to love oh, so much. My face won’t be harmed, I squeeze the trigger right as you jump for me. All I see is black. 

~  
He did it.  
He actually fucking did.  
I stare the lifeless body, the genius brain matter against the black of our bedroom. I stare at the gun, should I call the police, should I..?  
I understand it, but do I accept it? How can I, can I for the rest of my life. I hear the neighbors screaming all of the sudden. I know the cops are coming, I have two minutes to make my decision. Kill myself and join Mello or let them haul him out of here like a hunk of nothing and hand over the gun that would be the only proper weapon to kill myself with.  
I don’t make the decision fast enough and the cops come, gather me and do their work. I am taken down the decision they instantly know Mello and me for our affliction as some of the greatest crime-fighting minds in the world. They ask and I tell, not in great detail but just so they get the jest. For the first time in years I feel myself shaking and a bit out of control, the blanket they give me hides my body from everyone, like protection. I tell them I don’t want this as the last thing Mello did before he died, don’t put it on record. He went violently and impulsively as he lived, he didn’t die happy. The more I think about this, the further I push everything away and cry. When was the last time I cried? Not sense I was a child. I cry and cry until my well of tears runs dry and I fall asleep in the small concrete cell they’ve placed me in until morning. When I sleep, I have dreams, memory dreams of Mello. For a little while, it’s not real. He’s not dead, what led to this didn’t happen.  
When I wake up, I cry again almost instantly at the sight of the wall and the grey blanket. It’s more silent this time, my whimpers muffled before a cop comes to see me. He waits until I’m done, says there’s someone here to see me already. I tell him to tell them to fuck off, he says it’s important I see this person. So I allow my ‘visitor’ to come in with me.   
It’s Beyond Birthday.  
Surprise, surprise.  
He has a look of grief in his eyes, he’s not surprised though. I stare at him with blood-shot eyes and a puffy red face.   
“You....” He runs his hand over his face, trying to come up with his words. He’s not angry, he’s just facing what he knew was going to happen all along. “You are sad...”  
“As opposed to what, asshole?”  
“Not caring.”  
“Beyond Birthday, if you’ve come to fuck with me about this and blame me for the crazy shit you planted in his head sense he was five years old you’ve got another thing coming. You act like this is an act of self pity inside of wanting back my mate. I will grieve until the day I die, because I can’t replace him. He’s not one of my finger puppets or toys, if I break those, there’s always duplicates but I can’t have anyone else, truly. So fuck you, Beyond Birthday, you condescending piece of shit.” My chest squeezes tight with anger and sadness, the side of my head throbs my blood rushing in my ears. He glares,  
“HA! Near you were always such a fucking prick, he’s looking at us right now and feeling satisfied, he wanted you to suffer. So suffer, Near, SUFFER! You’re making his spirit happy, what you’ve done. What I’ve done, may he decide which is worse.” He walks out, I look at the cop and demand headache pills like the brat I am.   
~  
Once I get over my headache and I’m given some clothes, I walk around. They ask me more questions but I say nothing, I know what I need to do. I need to fulfill my end of forever I need to...  
I seek around and break into the evidence locker where Mello’s suicide is, I take it and walk of the station with it, where do I want to die? I think I know, the place where I met Mello.  
But first I travel back to the house, I get the picture of Mello I keep in my cupboard mirror. I tug into my pocket, I then I wonder around town until I find the alley he found my half-dead body in. My ribs were crushed in and my pulse was slow, he gathered my form and fixed me. He would later tell me he had done it because I was “too cute to die” not because he felt bad for me. I look at the place I stare the bricks. I sit down, no, I lay in the approximate spot he found me. The spot where I was supposed to die but didn’t, I place the picture of Mello next me, one bullet left, intended for me by the universe.   
All I see is black.  
~  
Their funerals were lovely, Lawliet’s such a empathic person at heart. He did them a favor and buried them side by side. I laugh, I knew Near would kill himself the day following Mello’s suicide. It didn’t surprise me the numbers worked out like that, Near could never live with himself after doing that to Mello. There aren’t that many people for Near, Mello has a small group. The pictures of him (chosen by yours truly) are lovely. Once the service is over, it is just Lawliet and I. I look over at him and smile.  
“So their gone...”  
“Gone...” He’s distant.  
“I always thought it’d be us in the ground first.”  
“The world works in ways we can not control.”  
“It wouldn’t be any fun if we had control.”  
“No it wouldn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I got my muse back, so I wrote this during a late night binge. It's very dark and short, but I found it 'fun' to write.


End file.
